


Suspicious Stars

by Heliopause Entertainments (sleepy_wrestler)



Series: Peacekeeping [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied Relationships, M/M, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25, Slow Burn, Swearing, The start of it anyway, oblivious Megatron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27081340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_wrestler/pseuds/Heliopause%20Entertainments
Summary: Megatron doesn't understand how valued he is. As a result, he is confused by suddenly receiving an obscene amount of Rodimus stars. Rated T for light swearing.
Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Series: Peacekeeping [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986511
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	Suspicious Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate outcome for LL #25.
> 
> EDIT: 10/26/2020 - made some minor flow edits and adjusted some of Roddy’s dialogue.

Megatron wanted to think that the situation on the _Lost Light_ was beginning to settle back into the nonsensical "normal" now that he'd been permitted to return to his position as captain--he could almost hear Rodimus yelling "co-captain" from somewhere else on the ship every time he so much as thinks the word "captain"--and their mandate of 'goodwill and peacekeeping' had been indefinitely extended. Unfortunately, several clues indicated that things aboard the ship were… not quite right, beyond the normal level of asinine madness that threatened to drive him insane every five void-damned minutes.

It started when he noticed that, after they last left Cybertron to embark on their mandate, seemingly at every possible opportunity a new, gleaming Rodimus star was being pressed into his hands for one reason or another, almost always accompanied by a loud "congrats, my dude!" and a wink. What in the damned hell was the wink for? Sometimes they also came with a solid, yet jovial punch to his upper arm. Why did that little speedster do that? What was the purpose?

Each star had a different inscription for what he had supposedly done to earn it. Most were ascribed incredibly petty reasons. "Held the door for a crewmate." "Didn't call someone an 'idiot'." For _that_ one, he really wanted to know how Rodimus knew what he was thinking, but then again he'd gotten this one right after Riptide asked Crankcase what the navi-comp was for. Perhaps that time Megatron's restraint had been self-evident. "Said 'please' over the commlink." "Summarized Mags' report on something or other." He really _had_ to stop doing that. Rodimus was perfectly capable of _reading_ on his own. More than once a star had been delivered by the orange maniac jumping onto his back to hand it over or even a few times jumping into his arms. Only once did he drop him, however….

Now all of these pointless little golden stars called the drawer of his desk home as he lacked a better place to put the growing pile of patronizing junk. He had the one that mattered, the one he'd carried with him for the eight centuries he'd been _abandoned_ in that other universe as a reminder of the life he'd thought lost, in his subspace, after all. These new ones weren't necessary and frankly, besides the fact that the stars' very existence was an arrogant display of ego, they were wasting valuable alloy resources to produce.

The sudden deluge of these damned things he'd received should really have tipped him off sooner that something was different, especially since the rest of the crew seemed to be "earning" them at the usual rate. What an absurd system of motivation. Might as well be giving everyone little adhesive stickers that say "good job!" That would _at least_ save on their limited resources.

The second clue was Ultra Magnus shrugging off his questions about what the hell all of this nonsense was. Megatron had once approached him in Magnus' office about the stars, assuming that his colleague, with whom he liked to think he'd developed something of a warm, perhaps even _friendly_ rapport, would have an idea of what was going on. This was getting to be ridiculous and, truthfully, the drawer he'd allotted the stars was getting to be too full to close correctly. Magnus had known his unfocused "co-captain" for much longer, and--ahem-- _quite well_ at that, and perhaps was capable of shedding light on the situation.

Frankly, he found the response of "he must be pleased with your progress" to be an insultingly _banal_ non-answer. Ultra Magnus was usually quite willing to analyze and over-analyze a situation, especially hypothetical ones. It was even an off-duty pastime of theirs to concoct unusual legal situations and puzzle through the implications. This seemed _off_. Nothing about Magnus' tone of voice or the way he'd shrugged his shoulders on the way out of the door in an attempt to escape _his own office_ passed the sniff test. He clearly knew _something_.

None of that was to say that he _disliked_ receiving these pointless trinkets. Something about the overly-wide smile and genuinely joyful glint in the optics of the shorter mech whenever Rodimus presented his "co-captain" with these baubles was pleasant, something to look forward to, even if Megatron couldn't put a finger on _why_. The entire exchange was so _inane_. Why should it bring him any sort of joy? He even occasionally found himself opening the that overly-stuffed desk drawer to just look at the glittering hoard he'd accumulated. He normally had lived a rather… spartan existence, even during the war. Having _things_ , personal belongings, was not normal for him. Yet, here he was, sitting at his desk, unaware of the soft smile on his face as he stared at the drawer's contents.

It was probably leftover relief and warmth from having finally seen his command team again after returning to this universe, Megatron told himself. He'd grown close-ish to them before they _left him behind_ and then had the nerve to blame _him_ for it--Being bitter was beneath him, of course.

This thought was interrupted as suddenly a flame-painted weight forced itself to sit sideways across his lap, getting in the way of arms and servos and the still-open drawer of stars. For the love of Primus, what the hell was this now? This was too much. No, too much contact. This was strange and he did not feel comfortable with it.

"Rodimus, what _are_ you doing? I've tolerated this… game of yours for awhile now, but this is _absurd_ \--" He put his hands up, about to shove the invading force from his lap.

A golden hand held up an almost equally golden star right in his face. This one read "Stayed calm for an entire cycle." This… was the most pointless of them all. "You've earned it though!” As though Rodimus could see his thought. “C'mon, one more for your collection. You've come so far from scowling like the world is ending every time someone says the word 'Autobot.' Take it!" There was a knowing glance down at the drawer filled with the new star's brethren.

"See! You like them so much, you've even dedicated a storage space. I _told_ Mags you'd like them, but he didn't believe me. What does he know anyway? Good thinking--How many more do you think will fit before you need a bigger drawer? I think you'll be better off with a display case but that can be arranged--"

"Stop."

"Hm?" A confused, slightly irritated face looked up at him, nose scrunched up.

"What are you doing? What's the point of all this? I don't need a reward every five seconds for simply being a functioning being."

That confused face shifted, for once, to something serious, as though Rodimus were in thought. The newest star was set aside on the desk, suddenly unimportant. 

The hand that had previously held the star reached up and in an instant there was a strange, warm pressure on his cheek from a palm. He flinched at the contact, his own servos raised defensively. The detest he felt towards having his face touched usually resulted in a swift strike against whomever violated the closest thing he had to personal space. This time, however, he found himself simply squinting back at judgmental blue optics, waiting.

"Look, I'mma be straight up with you right now, dude, 'cause you're just _not_ getting it, my guy--and Magnus thinks you're _so_ smart too…" A soft sigh escaped and limp shoulders dropped against his arm, a leg kicked dramatically out to the side, nearly colliding with the side of the desk. "Now I know, for you, you were gone _centuries_ and had time to really _process_ stuff. But, like, for us, you were gone _three weeks_ and even then… you were missed. I can _absolutely_ run this rusty tub without you, but… I don't _want_ to. Everything just kinda, y'know… _flows_ better when you're here."

" _Oh._ "

"Now shut up and take the star, Megs." For a brief moment, it looked like he would protest, but another servo found its way to the other side of his face. He breathed a resigned sigh and grabbed the newest of his gaudy collectibles from the desk.

"Very well then."


End file.
